iCatacombs
by FinaleUltimacian
Summary: So this is what happens when you watch FEARnet, SyFy, and TEENnick at the same time....... Freddie gets more than he bargained for when Sam invites him to Paris. Rated M for violence and some sexual content
1. Chapter 1

**So I was listening to the radio and Pinks' "Please Don't Leave me Came on." Good song, kinda reminds me of Sam and Freddie. Then when I got home, **_**Catacombs**_** was on. Good movie, it has Pink in it. So this is what happens when one does not sleep for 2 days, and then watches iCarly, Firefly and horror movies at the same time.**

Sam sent me a postcard. All it said was, "Come to Paris. It will be good for you." Forty-eight hours after I arrived, she, Carly, and everyone I'd met were dead.


	2. The airport

**So I was listening to the radio and Pinks' "Please Don't Leave me Came on." Good song, kinda reminds me of Sam and Freddie. Then when I got home, **_**Catacombs**_** was on. Good movie, it has Pink in it. So this is what happens when one does not sleep for 2 days, and then watches iCarly, Firefly and horror movies at the same time.**

Sam sent me a postcard. All it said was, "Come to Paris. It will be good for you." Forty-eight hours after I arrived, she and everyone I'd met were dead.

I stepped off the plane in Paris. I had no idea where I was supposed to, or even if Sam would be there to get me. It would be just like her to leave me stranded in a foreign airport, with no clue how to find her.

As expected, she was not there, and when I asked security directions to the Paris School of Art, where Sam was apparently studying they just laughed at me and commented to each other in voices too low for me to make out.

(Yeah, Sam in school, voluntarily. Never thought I'd see it either.)

So I decided to camp out and wait, to see if Sam would come for me. If she didn't come in the next few hours, I would buy a ticket back to the U.S. and make her pay for it. Somehow.

Turns out I wasn't the only one she had conned into coming apparently. As I sat in my makeshift luggage fort, watching the passengers arriving from around the world, I got nearly the shock of my life. Looking just as confused as I had, but much more in control, as usual, was Carly Shay. I burst out of my fortifications as she came closer and called to her.

"Carly?!"

"Who…. FREDDIE? What are you doing here? Did Sam contact you too?" She ran up and hugged me. "Oh my god, how have you been? What is going on?"

"Okay, okay, lemme go." I extricated myself from the woman's embrace and ran my hand nervously through my hair. "Yeah, Sam sent me a postcard. All it said was 'Come to Paris. It will be good for you.' I take it she sent you the same thing?"

"Yeah. It was weird. I hadn't heard from her in almost 6 months, really, and then all of a sudden, this comes." She handed me a postcard that looked exactly like the one I received. It saddened me to hear that Sam and Carly hadn't talked in a half a year. Not talking to me for that long, I could understand, but Carly was like her sister. Maybe Paris had been good to her, and she didn't need the constant monitoring that Carly had provided. Or maybe she had gone off the deep end and didn't want us around to stop her.

"So do you have any idea what this is about?" I asked, handing her back the card.

"None. I don't even know when she's coming to the airport."

"IF she's coming…" I added.

"Well, yeah, that too. But it's not like Sam to just leave me hanging."

As if saying her name too many times had summoned her, I felt an all too familiar pain in my back as I was tackled to the ground.

"Hey Carly….." Sam sounded different, somehow. I tried to twist under her to see why, but just got a boot-print on my cheek for my effort. "Hey, Fredweirdo."

"Samantha Puckett….. GET OFF ME!"

"Sam, let the boy up."

"Okay, okay." She climbed off of me with a hand from Carly and I turned angrily to confront her. The sight that greeted me was unexpected, to say the least. Somewhere in there was the Sam I had grown up with, but she was hiding under about eighty-seven piercings and tattoos. And those were just the ones I could see. It fit, somehow.

Her fashion sense had either aged gracefully, or had a debilitating stroke somewhere along the way. Her skirt looked to be nothing more than a wide strip of leather with belt loops cut into it. She wore torn fishnet stockings under that, and completed the ensemble with a shirt that looked to be the evil cross-breed of a Victorian-era corset and an iron maiden. Over this odd amalgam of fabric, she wore a three-quarter length red leather jacket. Again, this somehow did not detract from her overall image. Instead, it seemed that the Sam Puckett that had been trying to break out all through school had finally burst forth in all her splendor. I was not sure what to say

"Freddie, you're drooling all over the nice French government's floor." Carly piped in, placing a hand under my chin.

"All right. You got a good look," Almost as if she wanted to rub it in, she bent over to get one of my bags, but also to show off the ample cleavage her choice of garment provided. "Let's get to the apartment."

**Okay. There it is. I promise I am not going to follow the plot of **_**Catacombs**_** all the way through, for those of you who may have seen it. There will be some important scenes, but I WILL put a new spin on them. Let me know what you think.**


	3. The apartment

**Here's chapter 2. Not much else to say. It is almost 5 in the morning, and my girlfriend is not happy with my growing obsession with a kids show. I have got to get a life…..**

Just like everything else I had seen since arriving here, Sam's apartment fit her perfectly. When we walked in, it wasn't just a living space. It was like an extension of her. Every available inch was draped with strips of fabric, or clothing. It was hard to tell where the walls stopped and the floor began. The whole experience was mind-bending. She had roommates, three of them, but they were just more furniture. More accessories. More tools in Sam's ever-growing arsenal. And the fact that two of them only spoke French did nothing to detract from this vision, in my mind.

Jean, the one that spoke English, and apparently a fashion design student, or something was draped over Sam's lap, drinking straight from a bottle of wine. Well, drinking what he didn't spill on the floor.

"Jean, We have guests." Sam laughed, taking the wine from him. She took a swig, then twisted to hand it to a girl draped backwards over the back of the couch.

"Renee, ce sont mes amis, Carly et Freddie, d'Amérique."

"Ah…. Bonjour." She let her self slide all the way to the floor off of the couch, then flipped back over and took the wine from Sam. She walked into the small kitchen and returned a moment later with a number of wine glasses suspended upside down from between her fingers. She turned each one over one by one and poured a small amount into each glass before handing one to everyone in the room. "C'est le vie."

We clinked glasses, then caught Sam up on life so far. After about an hour, she stood up.

"Let's go. We gotta get you guys something to wear for tonight."

"What?" Carly and I cocked our heads to the side, confused. Unfortunately, this made us bump heads, painfully, and we reeled back from each other. Sam walked over and extended a hand to each of us, then pulled us up off the couch and looked at Carly, then at me, as if she were sizing us up.


	4. the dreaded authors note

**So sorry to have to say this, but I need to take a few days to think through some things, so I may be pretty scarce for a bit. Hopefully I can come back to this with my head on straight. Of course, some people are of the impression that if my head was on straight I would not be a 24-year-ld college graduate writing fanfiction for a childrens television show. Anyway, I will be around, but probably not posting anything new for a bit. Gimme some feedback on what I've got already, in all my stories, and some ideas on where to go from here.**


End file.
